Playing a Dangerous Game
by PurplePatchwork
Summary: Little Americans who play with fire get their fingers burnt. This is the lesson Alfred learns when playing the Midnight Game.


Alfred had always been a big fan of the dark and obscure. Scary stories, ghostly investigations, hellish rituals and meetings with the (un)dead. He loved it all, absorbed it like a sponge. And then one day, when one of his favourite Youtubers uploaded a video on certain "games" one could play when bored, he decided it was time to try one out for himself.

Alfred waited for the perfect opportunity, a night when both of his parents were out of town and his brother was having a sleepover at a friend's. They had been a little bit suspicious at first that Alfred had chosen to stay home by himself, be he'd promised them all it was just part of him growing up.

As soon as they were all out the door, the excited teen started making preparations for his game of choice. He could already feel himself gushing and shaking, looking forward to the expected adrenaline rush. He knew he was going to be playing a dangerous game, with the rest of his life as the only real reward. But it would be worth it, being able to say he'd survived, that he had won from the creatures of the Other Side, that he was strong, fierce, and unafraid.

Alfred quickly looked up the instruction video once more, making sure he had everything he needed. A box of matches, a salt shaker (the lid screwed loose), a candle, a pen and piece of paper, a knife. Now all he had to do was wait a few hours, until it was almost 12 at night.

Then, the Midnight Game could begin.

~o~

It was almost time. Alfred couldn't keep his feet still, hopping up and down on the spot while he wrote his name on the piece of paper. The grin adorning his features only grew when he saw his own quirky handwriting, making the realization fully sink in that he was about to begin a game with his own life at stake.

Not everyone believed the legends around these games were real, of course. But that was their own business; the teen just thought them to be too scared to try for themselves. Not Alfred, he was going to prove that the Midnight Man was very real, and that he himself had been able to stay out of his grasp!

The practical procedure of the game was simple. Turn off all the lights inside your house, write your name—your _full_ name—on a piece of paper, add a drop of blood. Alfred hissed when the knife cut through his skin, but the pain was short-lived. The first dark red, almost black drop of blood that welled up fell neatly upon the scribbled letters of his name, as if sealing a contract. He waited for it to soak in, balancing on his heels while he did so. Then came the next step.

Taking his other pieces of equipment in hand, Alfred walked up to the wooden door that connected his bedroom to the hallway on the second floor. He placed the paper with his name on it right in front of the door, eyeing it nervously. The candle was lit, and placed neatly on top of the paper. The blond then looked at his watch, waiting for the smallest hand to reach exactly twenty-two seconds before midnight. Then he started knocking on the door, one knock per second, while his heart fluttered like a little bird that tried to escape. On the twenty-second knock, his watch beeped. It was exactly midnight. He'd succeeded in this part of the game. Now things finally got more interesting.

Alfred swallowed harshly, before taking a hold of the door handle. He then swiftly opened the door, blew out the candle and closed the door once more, all in one fluid movement.

The game had officially begun. The Midnight Man was now inside his house.

Remembering the next step, Alfred grabbed the candle and lit it once more with shaking hands. He let out a breathy sigh when it ignited, slapping a hand over his mouth to stop himself from accidentally extinguishing the little dancing flame. It wouldn't do to lose because of his own silly mistakes, now would it?

Because those were the rules of the game. Now that the Midnight Man was inside his house, he was going to have to try and stay away from him until exactly 3:33 AM. Only then the creature would leave him be, and only then could he declare himself the winner. There was a catch though. Alfred wasn't allowed to just keep standing here until time ran out, oh no, that would make things far too easy. Now that the game had begun, he was to roam the dark spaces of his house, all the while trying not to let his candle go out. If the flame did disappear, Alfred would have to light it again as fast as possible. If he wasn't able to do that, he would lose. And losing meant…

Alfred looked behind him, searching the black contours of his bed and desk. So far he hadn't become aware of any supernatural presence, but that didn't have to mean a thing. The Midnight Man was inside his house, watching him, and it was time to get a move on.

Alfred swallowed once more and ventured out into the hallway. The house looked so very different without any of the lights on. It made his hair stand on edge, made him more alert to creaks and soft noises. Luckily for him there wasn't any rain or wind outside, making it easier to hear all those small sounds. Or maybe not lucky, because that meant more stress. Either way, he could only go forward now. Once you started the Midnight Game, you had to finish it. One way or another.

Alfred snuck down the hallway, towards his brother's room. Standing in one place was only going to make him an easy target, and he might as well know where his opponent was hiding. Alfred felt extremely brave as he opened the door, peeking inside. It was a little hard to see, but there appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary here. Just a bed, a desk, a beanbag, a closet. A bookshelf, as his brother loved to read just as much as Alfred loved to play videogames. Not that they were complete opposites; he and Matthew often played sports together, and while Alfred won most of the time, he knew never to challenge the other to a game of hockey. No one was more brutal in hockey than Matthew.

Alfred closed the door behind him. No Midnight Man here. Time to proceed. Perhaps his parents' room next?

But just as he was about to turn around and go there, he felt it. It was as if the temperature suddenly dropped, as if someone had come to stand right behind him, as if he was being watched. The flame of his candle wavered, and he rapidly held out his hand to protect it. Alfred's mouth was opened in a silent scream, his eyes reading both horror and thrill.

He had found the Midnight Man. Or rather, the Midnight Man had found him. It was more than just some urban legend.

Instead of going towards his parents' room, he moved the other way, towards the stairs. It wouldn't do to just walk into the open arms of his guest; only fools would be that stupid. He'd been lucky his candle hadn't gone out, giving him a better chance to win this thing.

Alfred's heart was thumping against his ribs as he made his way down the stairs, cold sweat crawling over his skin at the realization of how close he'd been to an otherworldly being. It made him dizzy, while still remaining focussed on the task at hand. He was far less afraid then he'd thought he would be. Jittery and skittish, but not scared. At least, not for now, not after that first small victory he could add to his name.

The Midnight Man wasn't going to let him be, however.

When Alfred walked into the kitchen, he had a second run-in with the creature. This time, it didn't sneak up on him. No, this time, he swore he could see it from the corner of his eye. A dark, humanoid shadow, lurking behind his trembling figure. The flame shook, then disappeared with a low sigh.

Alfred's fingers trembled as he tried to lit a match. There were only twenty matches in this box, it being the last one they had, so he had to make every one count. Alfred didn't know how many times his guest was going to make him use one, but he wasn't planning on running out before the game ended.

Eight seconds had passed when he finally lit the damned thing and used it on his candle. Ten seconds was the time limit you got, no more, no less. If the player took longer than ten seconds, a different method was needed to keep the midnight Man at bay. Had Alfred not been able to relight his candle within that time, he would have had to take out his salt shaker and draw a circle around him. Then, he would've had to stay within that circle until 3:33 AM, surviving the night but not being allowed to declare himself the winner of the game. Alfred was determined to do this without having to resort to plan B.

As soon as the flame lit the space in front of him, the shadow disappeared. But he could still feel its presence, waiting for a new opportunity. Alfred was brave, but not stupid. He quickly left the area, not keen on tempting the other to attack once more. Because if you provoked the Midnight Man, the game was over either way. He at least knew that much about supernatural beings.

Alfred snuck through the living room, stealing a glance at his watch every now and then. It was only twenty past midnight. He still had a long night ahead of him. A few hours might not seem that much, but to one being chased by a demon, or whatever the visitor was supposed to be…it felt like an eternity.

Alfred left the living room when he could hear a faint whispering coming from somewhere behind him. That was another sign the Midnight Man was near, along with the dropping temperatures and the sightings of a moving shadow. Alfred had studied the rules thoroughly. He wasn't going to let himself get caught because of some silly mistake only a noob would make.

The whispering made a shudder travel through his body. "Come play with me, little Alfred…" It knew his name. Of course it did, he'd put it on a paper before.

Before Alfred could exit the room, the door suddenly slammed shut. Alfred's eyes widened with fear, his hand clawing itself around the candle. That wasn't supposed to happen. The Midnight Man didn't close doors, that simply wasn't a part of the game. He was supposed to observe and sneak about, cause terror in the heart of the player without actually touching anything—unless he won, of course.

The flame went out, and for a moment Alfred was blinded by panic. He almost dropped the matchbox when he took it out, muttering out curses as he wasted one, two, three matches before getting one lit.

"Please, God, please no!" he cried out, because the moment he relit his candle, he swore he could feel hands around his neck. They were big with bony fingers, calloused fingertips probing at his sensitive skin. A cold gush of breath tickled at the back of his head, as if the creature was chuckling at the sight of its disturbed prey.

Alfred whirled around, protecting the flame as he did so. The invisible hands disappeared almost reluctantly, no Midnight Man in sight as he allowed the light to chase him away.

The hand that held the matchbox was twisted into his shirt, and the teen stood frozen for a full minute as he listened to his racing heartbeat. He had to pull his legs from the ground and leave the room, before his guest decided to repeat its previous assault. The door opened without any complaint. He was free. For now.

Alfred was officially scared now. He no longer felt excited playing this game. And only now did he realise how much he valued his life, how stupid he had been to begin this game. Especially if the Midnight Man wasn't going to play by the rules, that bastard.

Fifteen matches left, and it was 12:30 AM. If he survived this he was never going to be an ass to Matthew with videogames again. He was going to do his homework and chores without complaint. And he definitely was going to get a girlfriend, because Lien Chung had let it shine through many times that she'd like to go out on a date with him. If he survived the night.

Alfred entered the separate toilet on the first floor without any problems. He thought about taking a break there so as not to piss his pants later on, but didn't want to take any risks.

"Keep moving Jones. That's your only chance," he mumbled to himself, glancing around before continuing on his not-so-merry way.

He saw the shadow three more times, once in the hallway downstairs, once in his father's study, once in the room where they kept their cleaning equipment and the washing and drying machines. Each time, it made the candle go out, letting Alfred waste five more matches.

Only ten more left when it was a quarter past 1 AM. If that bastard kept playing at this tempo, Alfred was never going to make it. He always had the salt to fall back to, but there was no guarantee even that worked. If the player somehow wasn't able to draw a circle, the Midnight Man came for them anyway. Alfred had read all about what happened to those who lost. And he wasn't very keen on that happening to him.

It was almost 2 AM when Alfred fled back to the second floor. His shirt was soaking wet by now, sticking to his back and making him shiver. Alfred was sure he'd never felt his heart speed along at such a tempo before, not even when putting in everything he got while playing baseball or trying out a horror game. No, this was the true horror, right here. And he was the one who had let it in.

Alfred wanted to rest, wanted so badly to just lock himself away in his room, but he couldn't, because then he would get caught. He sobbed as his feet dragged him over to the bathroom.

"Keep—keep moving," he cried, rubbing at his wet cheeks as if that was any help at all. He was tired, much more so than he would've expected. But he still had an hour and a half to go, he couldn't sleep now. And he probably wouldn't be able to sleep after, too scared to close his eyes.

"I never should've done this."

"No, you shouldn't," came a heavy rumble of a voice, much too close to Alfred's likings.

His frightened blues shot to the side, and he froze when he found another pair staring right back. The Midnight Man was no longer a shadow, hiding behind. He was right there, allowing Alfred full view on him.

The young American didn't get much time to investigate the rest of those features, drawn to the next to fluorescent eyes. They were a hellish violet, blazing and smouldering, as if they could catch fire any moment. The being extended an arm, and once more extinguished his flame.

Alfred cried openly as he tried to get his candle burning again. He could feel the other pressing against him, a tall figure hanging over his much smaller one, dragging him down, bony fingers crawling over his hips and towards his stomach, ready to do everything the rules said he would do and perhaps even more, seeing as he didn't care much for the rules tonight.

Alfred cried out when the other giggled in a sing-song tone, the childish high-pitched sound a creepy contrast to his earlier low growls.

"I still have time!" he protested, counting the seconds even as his mind went overdrive. Another match—it lit! He breathlessly watched his candle set aflame once more, as the other bent over to whisper dark nothings into his ear.

"Oh, but I have time as well little one. I have all the time in the world. And when that light goes out, and you are unable to keep playing, I _will_ come for you." Then he was gone, chased back into hiding by the bright light of Alfred's candle.

The teen sobbed and gasped for breath, his legs almost giving out under him as he forced them to move, away from that spot, anywhere was good now. He saw the world spin around him, and had to let his body rest against the wall for a few seconds. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for his breathing to calm down, for the oxygen to start flowing in at healthy intervals once more. If he was going to hyperventilate, he would only diminish his chances of survival. Funny how it was him being so out of breath now, seeing as it was his brother who had been plagued by asthma as a kid. How the tables had turned…

Alfred couldn't afford to put the candle down and blow his noise, so instead he quickly wiped it on his sleeve. This would have to be cleaned after tonight anyway, the shirt being very sweaty and starting to reek of his fear.

Alfred wished he would've been a more religious man. Gone to church more, didn't just pray before eating because it was tradition, but because he actually found faith in praying. Maybe if he had been a more religious person, the demons wouldn't get to him so much. Maybe, had he been like his mother, he wouldn't have been so stupid as to start this game of life and death.

"Keep moving," came a voice different from his own, and he dully obeyed. If the Midnight Man gave him an opening to escape, he wasn't going to let that gift go to waste.

Seven matches left, and it was 2:27 AM. A bit over an hour left to go. Alfred felt more exhausted than ever.

The Midnight Man left him alone for a while after that. Stumbling from room to room, Alfred was lulled into a false sense of security. Maybe he'd played enough for one night, maybe his guest had decided that Alfred had undergone enough suffering. Maybe the creature had manners after all.

The long moment of peace wasn't to last. By the time his watch showed 3:29 AM, Alfred had actually begun hoping that he wouldn't have to face the other again tonight. He couldn't have been further away from the truth.

When he paid another visit to his bedroom, the room where it all started, the door once more slammed shut behind him. Before Alfred could react, something—or someone—threw him harshly onto his bed. The candle went out of course, but he still kept holding onto it, like clinging to a lifebelt. Alfred scrambled back until he hit the wall, chest heaving with suppressed hysteria.

The shadow arose in full glory, making Alfred realise just how tall the being was. The Midnight Man opened his eyes, after which a grin split his face in two.

"Naughty children who play with fire get their fingers burned," he chuckled, playfully wagging a finger at Alfred.

The teen fumbled with his matches, but his fingers had gone too numb to perform the needed act. The box slipped away, falling out of reach. He didn't risk trying to go and get it, not with his guest looming over the bed in an exceedingly threatening manner.

Remembering the salt, he tried to grope for the shaker. Alfred let out a pained scream when an ice-cold hand captured his wrist, dragging him towards the other. His eyes were huge as he was brought face to face with the Midnight Man, and he knew it was game over for him. Funny that he should lose with only about two minutes left.

He trembled and wept when the other dragged his nose along Alfred's jawline in an almost comforting gesture.

"Silly, silly child. That is what you get for playing dangerous games, yes?"

"Please," Alfred begged, knowing it was useless but trying nonetheless. "Please, I don't want to die! I promise I'll never play again, I promise!"

The creature chuckled, sending prickling goose bumps all over his cheek. "Of course you will never play again. That is what happens when I win."

"No! Please, please no, please let me go, I promise, I'll do anything, please—"

Alfred's pleas transformed into a desperate sobbing when a hand snuck under his shirt, drawing lazy circles over his stomach and chest. He didn't want to die, he was too young to die, yes he'd been a fool, he knew that now, please let him live, he promised he'd be a good boy from now on, he really was going to change, no more scary stories, _please_ let him live—

Another chuckle. "Game over. Time to wake up, Alfred."

And when he opened his eyes…the Midnight Man was gone.

Blinking, his gaze shot around the room, but no one could be found.

His alarm went off, drawing him to the watch still waiting around his wrist. 3:33 AM. He had survived. He, he was still alive. He had won. But how? The Midnight Man had been right there, he could've killed him just like that! So why hadn't he?

As soon as the first wave of confusion left him, a new, much more powerful emotion took a hold of his quivering teenage body. He was alive. He was still alive. He had looked death in the eyes, and somehow he was allowed to live another day and tell the tale. He was going to live.

Alfred had never cried so hard before. Choking for breath, struggling to keep himself under control, he simply cried and screamed and let out all the stress that had plagued him the past few hours. Until finally, he passed out into a dreamless sleep, letting exhaustion take him away.

~o~

Matthew and his parents didn't know what they saw when they arrived back home. The grass had been mowed, laundry was done, floor devoid of any crumbs and dust. Alfred had done all the chores he'd been postponing in one day, for some reason or other. And when they finally found the teen himself, curled up in his bed with flushed cheeks, as if he had a fever, they were surprised once more by Alfred's happy exclamations and the rush into a tight hug.

"Alfred, what's gotten into you?" his father laughed, tousling his messy locks.

"Did you play horror games again or something?" Matthew asked, wheezing when he too was trapped in a rib-crushing embrace.

"I just want you guys to know that I love you so, so much," was Alfred's only response.

Matthew and their father exchanged a look of pure and utter disbelief, but his mother laughed and hugged him extra tight. "Well, maybe we should leave you alone more often if this is what we get to come home to!"

"NO!" Alfred's shout interrupted her. "I mean er, nah, that's cool, I'll just go hang out with a friend next time. I uh, I only did those things because I was bored as hell, that's all."

His mother shook her head, while his father rolled his eyes. "Of course, that's the reason. Shouldn't have expected any less of you, Al."

"Hey!"

The only one who remained quiet was Matthew, frowning at the strange behaviour of his brother. He decided to just let it pass for now, seeing as Alfred had done weirder things in the past.

~o~

Alfred went to sleep with his nightlight on that night. He was embarrassed to use it again, seeing as he hadn't done so since primary school. But after last night's events, he needed the extra reassurance. Even though he'd won the game, an uneasy feeling swirled around in his stomach all day long, as if there was some small detail he'd missed somehow.

Alfred tried to make himself fall asleep before 12 AM, knowing it wouldn't do any good to scare himself any further. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he could forget all about urban legends and Midnight Games. His lust for adrenaline was gone for good.

Alfred couldn't fall asleep, however. Every time he finally started dosing off, something pulled him back. And every time he was startled awake once again, he automatically checked his alarm clock.

Only a quarter to midnight. Maybe he should stay awake, just to prove to himself that there was nothing left to fear. The game was over, last night's guest couldn't get to him anymore. He was free.

Five minutes. Did his room suddenly get colder? No, no- he was just imagining things.

Three minutes. Wait—was that a shadow?

 _Stop scaring yourself, Jones._

One more minute. Half a minute. A few seconds.

Alfred held his breath as the numbers changed into 12 AM. He waited, ears focussed on any anomalies. He waited a full minute, only relaxing when the time read 12:01 AM. He was free. He could sleep.

Or so he thought, up until the very moment something moved at the foot of his bed.

Alfred's eyes shot open, his body tensing up when the temperature indeed dropped. He could feel it climb onto his bed, over his body, hear the movements of his sheets as hands and legs came to rest upon them. He didn't dare look up when a shadow fell over his face.

A quiet, childishly high-pitched chuckle.

"Did you not know the rules, little one?" he purred, making Alfred shudder in dread.

His eyes slowly slipped shut when he could feel the other's breath on his cheek.

"Even when the game ends, the Midnight Man will always be watching you."


End file.
